The Pact
by StarsandComets
Summary: AU: To ensure the lives of his friends, Harry makes a pact with Voldemort, giving his life up in the process. But death does not always mean the end... and somethings are worth more than life itself.


Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J.K. Rowling.

AU: Disregards book seven. Other changes in timeline, namely regarding horcruxes. In a desperate bid to guarantee the safety of his friends in the upcoming war, Harry impulsively makes a deal with Voldemort himself, agreeing to give his nemesis what he has sought for all along. Now Harry must pay the ultimate price for the lives of his friends. But death does not always mean the end… and some things are worth more than life itself.

**The Pact**

**By StarsandComets**

**Prologue: The Deep Sleep**

_ When I look back upon that moment now, I berate myself for not having suspected anything. I should have thought about it more carefully! I should have been smarter than that! I walked in there expecting the worst but hoping for the best, and really all I got was all I thought I would get. Nothing more and nothing less. I repeat, I should have known better! I'd heard from all kinds of sources that Voldemort was devilishly intelligent. I'd seen ample proof of it during my school years, and even before that, if I want to dig up bad memories. In my defense, confidence was always one of my strong points. I can't curse something I normally thanked Merlin for, now can I? I'd be dealing in double standards, and that was always something I had little patience for. Still, if I hadn't believed in my own righteousness and courage, I wouldn't have acted so rashly. Even now, I won't lay a claim to cleverness – I rather suspect I never had any, to be honest. I was crafty every now and then, but not truly intelligent. That was Hermione's domain. And I never mentioned a word of any of this to her, nor to Ron, nor to anybody else for that matter. This pact was between Voldemort and myself; it was something that was personal, confidential… and utterly selfish. It's taken ages for me to even dare think that, but I have to face up to reality. When I made the Pact, I was acting on pure selfishness. I had thought that I was doing it for my friends, for the lives of all those I loved, and for the peace of the wizarding world. Who cared if I felt like a con-artist while I signed the document? Did it matter that I wasn't completely convinced of what I was doing? The answer I gave resoundingly back then was: NO. I had my beliefs, and I had my priorities, and in the cruel way I sometimes thought, and no one ever suspected, I decided to sacrifice myself for the lives of my friends. My family. People I cared for more than anything and everything in my life. But the truth was, I did more than sacrifice my life. I sacrificed any chance the wizarding world had for freedom. I committed them to a reign under Voldemort, my sworn enemy. All this I did so I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of knowing that my friends had died, that somehow, I wasn't able to save them. Regret was something I was never able to accept. I still hate the emotion, now after everything. It sucks the life and joy out of everything, and dims the future so darkly that all sight is lost. I couldn't stand the prospect. I had to act. If there's one thing people could predict about me correctly, it was my inability to sit in one place, and really _think_. I was always off like a bullet, jumping into things without a second thought. And this occasion was no different in any other aspect, aside from its costs. The price I paid was the ultimate one I could offer. I did so in order for my friends' lives to be guaranteed for the whole of their natural course. I had acted nobly._

_In truth, I couldn't continue living with the weight of all the expectations_

_Deep down, maybe I wanted to die. Or more accurately, perhaps I wanted something to change, and I didn't see that change happening through any effort of my own. If you can take a minute to ponder it, please do: an adolescent still undergoing his magical education, expected to save his world? I'm gaping with incredulity at it all, looking at it in retrospect. I wouldn't even have dared to question it out loud back then. And I didn't. I chose the quiet way out. Well, not exactly quiet, I admit. But the no-fuss way out._

_I don't quite recall how the idea first blossomed in my mind. I believe it was that dark day Dumbledore was killed, and my world shifted on its axis. Or maybe after that, I don't really remember. There are still quite a few things that I don't exactly recall these days, but I think they'll come back. They can take their time; where I am, I have nothing more than time. Anyhow, the days following Dumbledore's murder were, frankly, brutal. I couldn't trust anyone anymore, I couldn't get over the grief, and all the while, I was thinking, _why couldn't I have saved him?_ It was the same pattern of thought I had had after Sirius passed away, only a year prior. The responsibility I felt, the utter _regret_, was something I hope I will never have to feel again. All summer, I pondered about my role in Dumbledore's demise, and I plotted. At this stage, I was only plotting Voldemort's downfall. Inspiration, if it can be called such, had yet to strike. I thought about the horcruxes, about the sheer effort Dumbledore had put into the war effort, the legacy of my parents' deaths, and I felt that I had a responsibility to everyone. I needed to end the war. People had to stop dying. And I truly felt that I had the power to accomplish that. _

_It was only after Remus and Tonks were killed that I started to rethink things._

_The news reached me by post. I know, it was such an innocuous form for such earth-shattering content. The letter was addressed to me by Hermione, who was, she wrote, in a "safe location". As I read the missive, I felt the despair, the unfairness, the guilt, the_ regret_, all come creeping up in me. I didn't sleep a wink after that. Not for three days. I sat in my bedroom at my cursed relative's house, thinking about Sirius Dumbledore Remus Tonks Sirius Dumbledore Remus Tonks over and over and over until I could think of nothing else. _

_It was then that I had the epiphany._

_I think I had begun to suspect that I couldn't take anymore. I had approached my limit, and was at the point where another death would have shattered me beyond repair. At the end of the day, I was weak, and a coward. The pain of it all was too much, and after Remus and Tonks, the will to fight that had been reinforced by Dumbledore's murder crumbled into sheer desperation. I wanted it all to stop. I didn't care how. I just wanted peace, the end of death, and life for my friends. _

_I thought only about my friends._

_I see that now. I did confess that I was selfish, didn't I? I admit it here once again. If there was anything I wanted to achieve, it was the certain knowledge that my loved ones would live through everything, that they would die old and happy. I determined that I would be the one to make that happen. _

_And I did. I did._

_It was a perfectly sunny day, the day I went to see Voldemort. How did I manage that? I simply sent him a letter through Lucius Malfoy. Letters. They came to be a motif in the last weeks of my life. I think now about parchment rather fondly, if a little apprehensively. I never knew what news a letter would bring when I was alive. Nothing has changed now. What did I say? Well, I wrote something along the lines of: I have information you want, I would like to make a deal, would you guarantee safe passage and safe release. Something like that. Well, it was exactly that, packaged a bit more eloquently. To my surprise, three days later, I received a reply with no note attached. It was just a little silver key, quite like those giving access to Gringotts accounts. It came at the end of a thin chain of the same metal. I was rather puzzled, I admit. For an absurd moment, I thought that I was getting a gift of some sort, only to remember that my birthday was two weeks away. Reason caught up pretty quickly, however, and after casting checking spells, and hoping for the best, I put the chain around my neck. _

_And then-_

_Well, nothing happened. My head did not come off, I was not whisked away, and I did not sneeze. Nothing. I held the key in the palm of my hand, and waited to see if that activated anything. It didn't. So, I continued with my daily tasks, supremely distracted, but functional nonetheless. It was about three hours later that I felt the tug at my navel, and saw the utter blackness that surrounded me before I landed, disgracefully, at a frankly, beautiful house. This was Malfoy Manor._

_When I saw Voldemort that time, the second to last time before I gave up my life, I didn't recognize him. He was sitting by himself in a chair, staring out of the French windows facing the extensive gardens. From the back, I only saw dark hair falling elegantly around a man's head. Nothing else. It was an oddly peaceful sight. I remember wondering, briefly, where everyone else was, but then the figure stood up, and I was facing ruby eyes of such an intensity that I nearly flinched. I realized then that no one else was necessary. The one wizard before me was more than capable of taking care of a teenaged wizard who not only had limited knowledge of spells, but was also in a state of utter shock. How can I explain the disconcertion at expecting to find something, and seeing something else in its place? Voldemort seemed almost human again, if not for the eyes. He looked ageless, timeless, and completely confident. For one moment, I was convinced that I didn't stand a chance. Then I recalled that I was there not to fight, but to seek terms, to broker a deal. To seal a pact. Basically, what I offered Voldemort was the knowledge of where Dumbledore and I had hidden some of his horcruxes, in return for a chance for him to listen to what I wanted. I did say I was crafty when need arose, and I successfully managed to insure my life long enough for the pact to be realized. Voldemort agreed to my terms. Agreed to them if I in turn agreed to die._

_I accepted._

_We sealed the pact with a ceremonial quill dipped in my blood, and his. Our magic was from then on forever compelled to follow the terms of the deal. I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders, and rise away to disappear. All that now lay ahead was my death, and as Dumbledore had once said, it was nothing but a new adventure. Let me first say that there were stipulations on how I died. It was something Voldemort insisted on, and that I agreed to, even thinking, at the time, that it was a rather good idea. In order to secure peace, I would have to confront Voldemort, and publicly sacrifice myself for the well being of the wizarding world as a whole. The intricacies of this were well thought- out: I would not be martyred, and hopefully, the shock of my sacrifice would resonate in the hearts of many and stop the war. And it happened that way. I'll not go into the particulars, but it worked exactly how he said it would. And I died._

_I had thought it would all end there, but here I am. Let me tell you what happens after death. What happened after mine._

4


End file.
